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Sitting at Daein’s side, I feel strange as the other slaves start to serve up our meals. Terry should be among them. But she’s not. And she won’t ever be again.
My head is bowed down, face slack, and I stare at the plate just rested down in front of me. A wave of nausea washes over me as I eye the peppered potatoes.
I stab the points of my fork into the strips of nearly raw meat, watching the blood ooze out from the flesh. My mind can’t be dragged away from those thoughts of the litalf princess—a true litalf fae, not a … What was it he called me?
Kinta.
I’m a kinta—a mere broken, abandoned Halfling thing that nobody wants. Not even Daein, really. I’m sure if he could change his evate, he would and he would choose someone better suited to him and his position.
“Are you going to marry her?” I whisper, surprising myself. The question just snuck out of me, so small and mousy but determined. My heart jumps into my throat as I look up at Daein.
He pauses mid-chew, his darkening eyes fixed on his plate.
Slowly, he sets the fork down on the table and forces a harsh swallow. Shadows lick along the impressions of his cheeks, the cuts beneath his sharp cheekbones.
He’s quiet for a moment. The whole Hall is suffered in silence. It only shatters when I throw my own fork to the table and throw my wild eyes on him.
“You will, won’t you? You’re going to marry her!”
His sigh is so soft that I almost don’t hear it. Without looking at me, he says gently, “I can still keep you if these negotiations develop in my favour.”
“And if they don’t?” I spit at him, shoving away my plate as if to prove some point, though I’m not quite sure which point I’m making.
His cutting blue eyes swerve to me. “Have you forgotten I do not intend on giving you up?”
“If you marry,” I challenge, “maybe you will have to. And then what happens to me?To our child, Daein?”
Distantly, I’m aware of a shocked choking sound behind me. The butler, I think. But I care little about anything other than Daein’s ice-storm eyes.
He looks away, shaking his head. “You understand nothing, April. You are a simple village kinta who cannot even read. Do not pretend you understand our politics, customs or negotiations.”
“A village kinta you can’t get enough of,” I shout at him, and then my hand—on its own, apparently, since I seem to have suddenly lost all self-control—hits out and whacks his goblet of wine from the table.
Purple liquid stretches up through the air for a mere heartbeat before it comes crashing down on the hard floor and the gold chalice clatters.
I grip onto the edge of the table and lean closer to him, to his blazing eyes and face twisted with rage.
“A stupid little broken Halfling,” I hiss with more venom than I should, “that youlove.”
“What do you want from me, April?” He sounds almost exhausted beneath the currents of rage rippling over his voice. “I keep you safe, protected, I offer you what you need, I offer beyond that, more than what any village girl can hope for—and it is still not enough.”
“Marryme.”
I blink, caught off guard by my own answer.
And the prince mirrors me. Shock slackens his face as he considers me, and I’m quick to scramble my thoughts together.
“Marry me,” I breathe. “That’s the ultimate protection for both me and my child. That’s the only way I’ll ever be happy in this land. I can wear the colours I want, I can be treated with respect, I can see our child accepted. I won’t be a whore.”
He looks away, turning his cheek to me. “No.”
I shove back from the table, the legs of the chair screeching in protest. I kick it back and it topples over.
“Then I do not accept you.”
Still, he does not look at me. He stares at the flames in the hearth, dark shadows still clinging to him.
I storm out of the Hall, making sure to pause by the entrance and whack over a vase before I leave. I hear it shatter to a million pieces before the door slams shut behind me.
